


No Good Deed

by Kris



Category: Dresden Files - Jim Butcher, Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-02-07
Updated: 2008-02-07
Packaged: 2017-10-12 10:12:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/123789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kris/pseuds/Kris
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>No good deed goes unpunished, a few days in the life of Harry Dresden, Wizard</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Good Deed

**Author's Note:**

> Beta read by Ash/Jack Vale

The problem with being a wizard is that magic is a double edged sword. It gives you the power to help people, but in giving you the power to help people it takes away your ability to do so. It's sort of like in English class, when you'd pop a piece of gum in your mouth and the teacher would ask if you brought enough for the whole class but you only had one piece. You can't help one person and not help everyone else too. The more you try, the more weighed down you feel until you can barely crawl out of bed in the mornings, you can't look out the windows, you've locked you door, you order your food online and you've cut off all contact with anyone to become the modern day hermit. Not that I'm speaking from experience, but I've thought about it, you know?

For instance, right now I'd really like to be that kind of wizard, because then I wouldn't have Morgan in my shop glaring at me from the doorway. Morgan being Donald Morgan, Warden of the High Council and general pain in my ass.

"You're skating a fine line here Dresden," Morgan snaps. He's kind of angry at me right now, maybe I should explain. I kind of maybe did a little bit of 'grey' magic this morning. It wasn't black, but it wasn't white and it was meant to help someone out which is probably the only reason Morgan's real, honest to goodness, double edged sword isn't removing my head from my body right now.

"Okay, you know what Morgan, that's not fair, all I did was help a guy out a little." 

"You helped the wrong 'guy' Dresden, and now you're on his Radar." I blink a little, confused.

"Whose Radar?" Morgan looked a little taken aback.

"You uncle never explained it too you did he?" Morgan asks and you know it's going to be bad when the Warden for the High Council, a man who has been after your head with a nearly insurmountable passion, is being almost gentle with you.

"Explain what Morgan?" I demand. He sighs a put upon sigh and sits down heavily in the chair across the desk from me.

"How is it, Dresden, that you managed to get so far in life and in magic, and you've never been told about the Lower Level?"

"The Lower Level is a myth, Morgan, you should know that." It is a myth, it's like the boogie man, parents tell their children about it to keep them behaved, make them eat the vegetables.

"No it isn't Dresden, the Lower Level is quite real. It's the reason for the divide between light and dark magic. What you did today, it will have repercussions beyond what you're prepared to deal with." I raise an eyebrow.

"Okay, fine, tell me about the Lower Level, explain these 'repercussions' to me," I challenge, he looks deadly serious but the only time I've ever heard of the Lower Level, I was ten and my uncle was telling me a bed time story.

"There are no real devils and no real angels where wizards are concerned. That's not important, what's important is that he portrays himself as Satan. He's powerful."

"More powerful than Ancient Mai?" there's this sense of impending doom mounting at the back of my neck. I hate it when that happens.

"Yes," he meets my eyes and I look away, I don't want to see into him, I can feel the truth in his words. A force more powerful than Mai, who rules the Council and all of us with an iron fist.

"How is that possible?" I demand. Mai is widely believed to be the last of her kind. Possibly even the first.

"He was a young wizard like any other," he's talking through me, looking over my shoulder as if he's staring into the past, watching it unfold as he's sitting there across from me. It's a little creepy to watch. "He didn't appreciate limits, not the one's his mentor gave him nor the ones the Council set down. He couldn't even appreciate that there was a reason for his own personal limits. "

For the uninformed, limits are important for wizards and magical folk. Magic is an almost sentient force that, if it so allows, you can bend to your will. When you've reached a limit there's a reason for it. Too much power, too fast, can turn around on you, it can eat you up. Absolute power corrupts absolutely.

"He pushed at his powers and his powers retaliated, unleashed themselves to the fullest potential possible and pushed back at him, took over and filled all of the empty space it could inside of him, and what makes him so dangerous, Dresden, what makes him so different from the slobbering fools we clean up, is that he controls it."

I sit forward in my chair staring intently at Morgan, because what he's telling me, it just can't be true, you can't control that kind of power, no one can. It would kill you.

"You're crazy Morgan, you're trying to freak me out on purpose. Passing around old campfire stories of ghouls and goblins and the man who controls absolute power." Morgan pushes himself out of his chair drawing himself to his full height and glares down at me.

"Think what you will Dresden, but the Council won't protect you from his minions, or him if he tries to intervene. There is nothing keeping him in check, not even any of his own kind. By removing the sigil from the boy you drew their attention to you. If I were you, I'd reinforce the protection spells around this place. So long as you continue to allow the Council access, you can ward this place as heavily as you feel is necessary."

"I'll, um, I'll need a hair, for the warding…" a wizard can do any number of dastardly things with just the smallest piece of a single hair, and I stare stupidly down at the desk top as a single hair from Morgan's head drifts gently down to rest there. To leave this for me willingly, either this is a test and the Council is waiting for me to do something stupid, or the Council honestly believes that I've been added to the hit list of some major Demon's minions.

Bob's skull is waiting in the basement for me when I get down there. It surprises me that he isn't out and about. He loves eavesdropping on conversations between Morgan and I. He loves eavesdropping period, but when you're an incorporeal being trapped to your skull for eternity what else is there to do?

"Bob?" the black smoke interspersed with red and yellow sparks flows out of one of the skull's eye sockets seems almost reluctant if you can give black smoke a feeling.

"What did the council want from you?" Bob asks, playing for bored but reaching somewhere around constipated. Ah, so he was listening. Sneaky ghost.

"I’m being hunted by Satan's little helpers?" I say, though it's more of a question than a statement of fact. 

"Oh Harry, don't be so melodramatic. Satan doesn't exist, you know that," a soft chuckle echoes through the room and when I turn around there's a gorgeous lady standing behind me, long silky black hair, classic look, I'm a sucker for a classy dame. It's the black eyes that give her away. It's not that she has dark eyes, they're just black. There's no white, no colour, just black from corner to corner.

"Your mother should have taught you better Dresden, don't mess with other people's toys. I don't like to share. Oh, but that's right, your mother wasn't around for you, was she?" She's not so classy looking now, her face twisted in fury. "You took something that belongs to me and I want it back." I can't suppress a shiver at the dark feeling that's creeping up into my bones. "I'm generous though," she continues. "I may not be Satan, but I've got more than enough power to bring your puny little existence to an end. You have a day to find Dean Winchester, that's the boy's name by the way, and kill him. Or I'll kill you." She winks out between one breath and the next without a sound.. I don't think I've ever been so terrified in my life.

"I think, Harry, you should probably explain what's going on," Bob says, I tear my eyes from the corner of my lab the woman had been standing in.

"Apparently, I managed to piss off the wrong woman. There was this guy on walking down 9th with a sigil that would have called hellhounds down on him right there in a public street. I couldn't just let that happen! So I removed the sigil." Bob rolls his eyes at me.

"I told you this habit you have of trying to help people would only lead to disaster," he says almost serenely. I give myself a moment to collect my thoughts from experiencing evil in what appears to be its purest form and I take a deep, cleansing breath in an attempt to not say something to Bob that will result in a very uncomfortable few years, Bob holds grudges like you wouldn't believe.

"Bob, I need you to start working on strengthening the protections around this place." I call behind me as I head up the stairs to the main floor.

"And what exactly are you going to be doing?" Bob calls after me. I turn around and favour him with a pained smile. 

"I'm going to find Dean Winchester."

**

I'm in a tough spot, as you can no doubt imagine. I have the Council on one side, and this demon on the other. The demon says, you don't kill the kid, I kill you. The Counsel says, you do anything bad and we'll have your head.

My mother died when I was very young and my father took care of me as best he could. When my father died I was taken in by my uncle, a fat, balding, oily man by the name of Justin Morningway. At the time, Bob's skull was in my uncle's care. Under uncle Justin's direction Bob took on the position of teaching me magic. Over time I realized my uncle had ulterior motive to taking in his orphaned nephew. The day I killed my uncle was the day I learned about his darker practices. 

The only thing that kept the council from killing me was the fact that it was an accident. I accidentally 'self-defensed' my uncle to death. In return for my continued existence they assigned a warden to me, that would be Morgan, and they gave Bob to me. 

Hrothbert of Bainbridge was a real wizard once, now cursed to his life of incorporeality in his skull, but that's his story to tell. Not mine.

I was just starting to feel like everything that could go wrong had already gone wrong when I closed the door to the basement and Murphy's law comes crashing down on me in the convenient package of Connie Murphy, Detective with the Chicago PD who I do the occasional consultation for. Hey, it pays the bills which, come to think of it, really need to get paid soon. Standing inside my front door tapping her little foot impatiently with her arms crossed and a glare on her face.

"Dresden, where the hell have you been? I've been looking for you everywhere." 

"Hey Murphy," I smile at her in a charming manner, it didn't seem to go over to well so I go for the sympathy card. "Oh come on Murphy! you ever have one of those days where you do a good dead and then a guy shows up with a sword and then an evil demon from hell thinks she can order you around?" I ask blinking. She rolls her eyes.

"Yeah, Dresden, I do, and the Chief wants you on this one so come on," she snaps and starts walking away. I tilt my head to the side as she waits impatiently outside the building for me to lock up.

"Just so we're clear, is the Chief the guy with the sword? or the source of all evil in your world?" She snorts and yanks me to the black and white squad car parked on the street, where her partner, Detective Sid Kirmani is waiting for us. Oh goody, I get to ride in the back.

"So what is it the Chief wants me on?" call me crazy, but sometimes I like to know what it is people want me to do. Murphy growls under her breath a little. She's kind of hot when she does that but I know better than to tell her that, especially after she decked me the first time.

"Some guy, apparently he keeps an eye on the Most Wanted websites, spotted a dead man walking around with his brother. Fugitives by the name of Dean and Sam Winchester," I sigh, one of these days my life will be uncomplicated, by then though, I'll probably be dead.

"So these brothers are dead?" last I saw, when I ran into this Winchester kid, he was alive and well but since I value my hide I keep my mouth shut. Mixing Murphy in with wizard business is never good, it leads to bad things for her reputation, which is my fault because she's the one the bosses give all of the 'weird' cases too and the rest of the force knows it. And bad for our relationship, because then she'll be pissed at me and when she's pissed at me I don't get called in for consultations and then I'm not making the very decent hourly wage that the PD pays and, well you see where I'm going with this. 

"Last we knew, hell, they even found Dean Winchester's body, not that it matters. His prints and face keep popping up." As we pull into the parking lot of the PD her eyes focus on me in the mirror but don't connect with mine, Murphy's never been soulgazed by me but she's always been a bit wary of looking directly at me. 

Soulgazing is where a wizard meets eyes with someone, even another wizard, and it gives them a chance to see into the soul of the other person. The problem with that, and doesn't it seem that there are a lot of problems when it comes to magic? is that soulgazing is a two way street, you can see glimpses of them, but they get to see glimpses of you, and if they look deep enough, well lets just say I really don't want that to happen.

"We need to get this done quickly Dresden, before the FBI gets wind that we've had a sighting here, because if they do then we lose all of our jurisdiction and I’m not letting that happen. This is our case." Kirmani turns around and smirks.

"Do your thing Dresden," he adds.

"What thing would that be exactly?" I ask raising an eyebrow. He waves his hand around in a circle and rolls his eyes.

"You know, whatever magic shit you think you can do to track these guys down." I snort and pull myself out of the squad car, getting past the lock is easy. Murphy, standing outside the door with her hand stretched out to open it, gives an aggrieved sigh.

"I wish you wouldn't do that," she mutters.

"Can't do that Kirmani, I need something from them, like hair or nail clippings." I follow Murphy down the long hallway that leads to evidence lockup, Kirmani splits up with us halfway there.

"How about blood, will that do?" she asks. I know Murphy and I can hear the disgust that lays underneath her words, I'm kind of sickened myself. The 'dead' man's clothes are spread out on the table in the middle of the room and there's an awful lot of blood all over them. I swallow heavily and move into the room. I'm not afraid of losing my lunch, I've done that in front of Murphy before, but this isn't the worst thing I've ever seen.

"I don't know Murphy," I reply, "it's old blood, it might not even be his." If I can get a sample I can trace it. There's something weird about the clothes though, they're giving off a funny feeling.

"That's fine, we pulled samples and we're waiting for the information to come from the DNA lab, but if you wanted to give it a try I can give you one of the samples." It’s not a 'if you want to' kind of look she's wearing though. Kirmani comes back into the room before I can comment, shaking his head.

"We got nothing Murphy, the lab confirmed the blood isn't Winchesters and our digging flagged the FBI."

"Shit!" Kirmani looks even more depressed as he continues.

"The worst part, is that the FBI is on route from the field office here and the agent in charge, Agent Wittman, called in telling us to back off and reamed me out for pulling the evidence out of lock-up." Murphy's shoulders slump and she shakes her head in irritation.

"Fine," she spits out and tosses a look at me. "Beat it Dresden." I nod and take off quickly. I'll have to resign myself to a night with Bob for a tracking spell that has no physical aspects to ground it. Bob is going to kill me.

**

"If I weren't incorporeal, Harry, I would kill you."

"I know Bob, I know." I hold my hands up in a peace keeping gesture.

"Really, I would, I don't know how you expect to pull this off." He's got that snotty look on his face, the one that says 'if I wasn't trapped in a magical skull and you weren't my warden I wouldn't even dream of helping you' good thing he is trapped in a skull and I am his warden.

"There has to be some thing Bob," I lean tiredly against the work bench in the basement lab. The shop, living area and lab are so heavily warded I can feel it like a weight pressing down on me. It'll lighten up in a while when it's had time to settle into all the nooks and crannies and then I'll work on the back door to let Morgan in. Bob has been egging me on to keep back a piece of the hair Morgan left but I have a feeling this really is a test from the Council, they like to set me up for failure every once in a while. I haven't failed yet and it I'm not going to fail now.

"Some thing yes I'm sure, but if there is then it is so deep in the Dark Magic, you will never come back from it, Harry, there must be some amount of transfer. You bumped into the man, surely he left a smear of sweat, a hair." Bob pleads. 

"We've been over the clothes I was wearing a hundred times Bob, there's nothing there," I reply. It's while I'm waving my hand to emphasize my point that I realize it and I chuckle a little. Bob rolls his eyes at me.

"Please tell me you haven't gone over the deep end," he begs. I just grin at him widely and present my hand like a little kid, palm up.

"I clapped him on the shoulder," I reply, this may not seem like a big deal, but it is. 

There are three parts to removing a spell that has been cast on someone. The first part is physical contact. You need to touch the person in order to get anything done which is kind of unfair because you don't need to be anywhere near them to curse them to begin with. I bumped into him, knocked him with my shoulder a bit.

The second part is that they have to acknowledge you, they have to meet your eyes, I said 'you're welcome' and it made him look me in the eyes, he was confused, but he still looked. And the third part is focusing your will on removing the spell. 

Some people like to go with flashy and mutter a lot of nonsense, some people go for the light shows and some people, like me, keep quiet. It doesn't really take an incantation, just a clear mind and a strong will. I have a problem with 'clearing' my mind, if I would listen to Bob like he tells me over and over, I'm sure I would do much better, but it is what it is.

I put my hand on his shoulder to help focus, I connected myself to his aura. The closer I am to a person the better I can focus on that person alone. And when you mingle with someone's aura their energy sticks around a for a while.

Bob is grinning widely and, yeah. It's kind of scary.

Five hours of work late into the night and a half of a night's sleep spent tossing and turning and thinking about the yellow eyed man later I'm dragging myself out onto the street and everything is glowing.

Bob's tracking spell took the shape of eye drops. One drop in each eye and it leaves a skim coating over my eyes and when I spot Winchester's trail it will be the only thing in the world not glowing. Unfortunately, the skim coating is a bright blue and the colour takes about two hours to fade, then, if I haven't found Winchester, I'll have to take another dose. So, sunglasses, all the rage I hear.

**

9th and Michigan is pretty crowded this time of day and I'm not getting any signs that Winchester has been in the here lately, I am however getting signs that some higher power is really out to get me if the crime scene tape is anything to go by. I try to duck quickly into an alleyway, hide from view of anyone who might know me.

"Dresden!" damn it. I plaster a big smile on my face and turn around to look at Kirmani. My eyes are still glowing and I can't take the sunglasses off.

"Detective Kirmani, you look busy, don't let me keep you," I try to walk away but he grabs my arm.

"Oh no you don't Dresden, Murphy's been looking for you all over for the last hour." It's taken me an hour to realize that 9th and Michigan wouldn't reveal anything to me. I really should have listened to myself ten minutes in and gotten off the street. "And I'm not going to be disemboweled when she finds out that I saw you and didn't send you over to her." 

We both kind of wince because Murphy probably would if she's angry enough. Strangely though, she doesn't seem to be worried because I get over to her and she's got a manic gleam in her eyes.

"My case," she says with an almost grin before pointing at the body of a middle aged banker lying on the sidewalk behind her and, ewwww, is that intestine? I swallow the bile rising in my throat. Kirmani smirks like he knows I almost lost my lunch.

"Um, that's great Murphy, you seem pleased." I'm not sure what I'm supposed to say, she seems…happy.

"Yeah, you know why I'm happy Dresden?" she asks and goes on before I can answer. "I'm happy that the FBI on route from the satellite office here in Chicago got stuck in a traffic jam that they caused on the other side of the city. They've decided to work with us 'locals' seeing as they have no other option of getting work done."

"Right, because they're stuck in the traffic jam." I reply. She nods.

"Anyway, this is Winchester's MO," she says with a nod over her shoulder. The body has a wicked looking knife stuck in it and I move a little closer for inspection before stopping and looking over my shoulder at Murphy.

"This is your case, so does that mean it's mine?" I ask. She rolls her eyes and gestures me forward before grabbing Kirmani and going over whatever they have to go over at this point.

Look but don't touch, that's the motto Murphy drilled into me when I first started this consulting gig. Of course at the time, on my first consultation case, I managed to get my prints all over the murder weapon. Murphy was incredibly pissed off at me.

The knife is real silver and dull, the flesh around the wound looks like it didn't even pull when the blade came out, it looks like the point went in like butter. The handle is thin and the same metal as the blade, the blade is flat.

From the look of knife, directly in the heart, the guy was probably dead when it went it. The inscription, from what I can see that isn't smeared with blood and viscera and hidden by the glow from the eye drops, is in Latin asking for protection.

"What do you think?" Murphy asks coming up behind me. I look up at her, glowing like an angel, halo firmly in place.

"This is an Athame, and whoever used it, used it for self defense. I can't think of anything that would require this amount of self defense but it wouldn't be used to kill unless it's a ritual and if it had been there would be more wounds, more blood and it still wouldn't have been an athame." She stares at me hard, her mouth thinning into a tight white line.

"It wasn't self defense, Dresden," her expression is pinched as she looks over the body. "This is murder." For a moment I can't help thinking about my uncle. 

It's only as they're carefully pulling the athame out of the wound, cleaning it, that I see it. The lower half of the knife is a shinning silver but dull compared to the rest of the world. This is Winchester's knife. I let my head hang for a moment considering.

There's something going on that goes further than I thought. It's time I dug a little deeper into this situation, into the Winchester's, because I've got alarm bells going off in my head, there's something here that just isn't right.

**

Murphy holds her hand up in silent command before entering her office first, Kirmani follows, watching her with barely disguised disgust. Of course, he's never seen me blow up a computer just because I sat beside it. Murphy has, I guess I'm lucky that it wasn't her computer. Modern technology and Magic just don't mix well. When she's done shutting everything down she waves me in, I sit down beside Kirmani and across the desk from Murphy, she fiddles with a large manila envelope that has an inter-departmental stamp on it.

"Alright Harry, explain to me what the hell you mean by self-defense. Because from where I was standing there were two stab wounds, once I can buy but pulling that knife out and then pushing it back in." Kirmani nods in agreement.

"I don't know what to tell you Murphy, you say it's murder then you're probably right," I tell her. "The thing is, that knife is an athame, it's a very personal item."

"Right, so it was a ritualistic murder, which would fit with Winchester's MO," Kirmani interrupts. I roll my eyes and butt back in.

"You're not getting it, the athame isn't used for cutting, bloodletting of any kind. It's more symbolic, I bet the lab tells you it was almost to dull to do anything with." Murphy's eyebrow does it's raising thing. So the lab already confirmed that with her.

"Right, so what's your point Dresden?" Kirmani demands hotly. "That it was self-defense?"

"That's exactly my point, if the person used the athame to kill then it was probably their only weapon available. They must have truly felt their life was in danger. Hell, most of the time these things are kept out of the way with a chalice, they don't use them for anything, not even to cut up herbs." Kirmani sighs a gusty sigh and leans back in his chair. Murphy shakes her head and tosses the envelope at me.

"I really don't know how you do that Dresden," she mutters. I take a look at the first picture. A silver chalice with rune markings, spikes lining the top and full of blood. I put the picture back into the envelope and swallow thickly.

"Sometimes I scare myself?" I offer it like a question and she rolls her eyes but she's kind of smiling.

"What can you do to help me with this?" She asks. Kirmani smirks.

"And make it good, we need to get approval for anything you do now," he adds. Clearly he doesn't think there will be any approval from the higher ups.

"I've got some contacts I can talk to. Pretty connected. If the athame or the chalice was bought here I can track it down pretty fast, if it was bought somewhere else I know a guy that can find out where." Murphy nods thoughtfully.

"I'll put the request through. Let me know when you have anything." I'm almost out of the door when her voice stops me. "And Dresden?" she adds. "When I say anything, I mean absolutely anything." I toss a smile over my shoulder at her before closing the door behind me with a parting shot.

"Murphy, you'll be the first to know, you'll know before I'll know even." the door closes before she can reply and I hotfoot it out to the street with the crime scene photos in hand. I'll take a closer look at them at home where I can freak out with only Bob to offer witty commentary.

**

Back at the apartment I have to laugh, quietly mind you, I wouldn’t want to interrupt the two boys trying to break in. And wouldn’t you know it, Dean Winchester.

I creep up behind them slowly and peer over the shoulder of the tall one.

“Dean, I really think this is a bad idea,” okay, so the tall one is Sam.

“Sam, I’m trying to break in here, do you think you could give me some space?” Dean demands. “And stop whining, bitch,” my eyebrow crawls up my forehead – so much for brother love – except it is apparently. I missed Sam’s reply by he’s got a smile on his face.

“So…whatcha doin?” I ask lightly. Both brothers spin around startled.

“Damn it Sam! You’re supposed to be the look out!” Dean snaps coming out of his crouch fluidly. He’s a good head shorter than his brother, I’ve got a few inches on Sam though.

“Hi,” Sam says holding his hand out. “We were just interested I your shop but my brother here dropped his contact.”

“He’s looking for a contact –with a lock picking set.” Deadpanning is a lost art.

“Look, I just want to know what you did to me.” Dean butts in before his brother can open his mouth.

“You know what, why don’t’ we take this inside, where it’s a little more private.” And a lot less likely to garner the attention of a freaky demon lady threatening to kill me. They step aside and I unlock the door and invite them both in.

“Okay, we’re in, what did you do?” Dean demands. Sam tries to hush him.

“I helped you out – there was this curse hanging over you that was going to call hellhounds into a public street to tear you apart – so I removed the curse. You probably felt a bit lighter after I did?” They both start at me incredulously.

“Just that easy huh?” Dean asks conversationally. “My brother here, he’s been trying to remove the curse for a year now and we weren’t anywhere near an answer. I was enjoying my last day on earth before you got in the way.” His tone is almost accusing and I sigh and sit down on the couch. Some people just can’t be grateful for what they get, you would think living was worse than being torn into bits by hellhounds the way he’s going on.

“look, I’m sorry okay – I was just helping out and really this whole thing has been more trouble than it’s worth. So do me a favour – go enjoy being alive and get out of town – quickly.”

“Why?” instead of taking the hint to leave Sam sits down in one of the chairs, making himself comfortable.

“Why what?”

“Why do you want us to get out of town?” I drop my head against the back of the couch, right now I’d do just about anything for a nap. The few hours I caught last night seem so far away. My phone rings before I can answer Sam’s question and I fumble blindly for it on the end table.

“Dresden,” ah Murphy, the only way this could get better is if she’s on her cell phone and almost here to catch me in my home with two of America’s most wanted.

“Yeah Murph?” she sounds kind of irritated, I guess things at the crime scene aren’t going well.

“You were right,” I raise my head in surprise.

“I was? Of course I was. About what?”

“That athame – yeah it had Winchester’s prints on it but they were smudged and old. It looks like this might have been a frame job – there are fingerprints coming up in the system for a Josephine Harvelle.”

“Huh,” okay, that’s surprising but at least now it makes sense – because it hadn’t earlier. Of course looking at the two brother’s, I can’t say that either of them would even carry an athame, of course, people don’t look at me and think I’m a wizard. Can’t judge a book by it’s cover I guess.

“Yeah, so look Harry, I need to get moving before the feds decided to take this back. In the meantime, you keep working on those photos and I want to know the minute you come up with anything.” She doesn’t even wait for me to respond before she hangs up which says more to me about her mood than her voice did. Things are not going well at all on her end.

I hang up the phone when it starts beeping in my ear.

“You were going to tell us why we should be hitting the road.” Dean prompts.

“Yeah, okay this is going to sound kind of crazy,” I warn them. The last thing I need is for the two of them to run out of here thinking I’m a whack job.

“Apparently the curse I removed for you made this demon,” and I wince just saying it, waiting for them to run screaming from the room. Dean settles himself into a slouch on the arm of the chair his brother is sitting in. Sam leans forward, elbows on his knees and an intent expression on his face. “Right, so I made this demon king of mad. She wants me to kill you myself, something about how you sold your soul for a favour and she’s going to get it one way or the other.” They’re both looking pretty interested now.

“Now sure I could kill you, but if I did my neck would be on the chopping block with the council. Of course on top of that the Chicago PD is looking for you and you’re being framed for murder.”

“Whoa,” Dean mutters. I roll my eyes.

“This demon,” Sam asks quietly. “The one who wants to kill my brother – what did she look like?”

“A knockout,” I reply provoking a snort from Sam and a grin from Dean. “A classy looking lady, long black hair, red lips, completely black eyes and extremely angry at me.”

“You know who we are?” Dean asks suddenly.

“Well yeah, that’s what happens when you’re a wizard that does consultations for the police when weird stuff starts happening. They’ve been shoving your pictures at me for the last two days.” I watch Sam clue in faster than Dean.

“Hold on, did you say framed for murder?” he demands.

“The police think it’s a frame – they pulled an athame out of the chest of a man on Manhattan and 9th this afternoon and said it had your MO all over it, apparently it had your prints too but they found prints for a Josephine Harvelle.”

“Jo huh?” Dean mutters under his breath. “Didn’t see that coming.”

I leave them sitting there stewing over the situation and poke my head down into the basement. Bob must have heard our voices because he’s now here to be seen, which is good because I don’t want to bring him into any lower level demon’s notice.

“Wait a minute!” Dean’s voice is annoyed and loud. I head back into the living room to find a sawed off shot gun being waved in my face. “You’re a wizard?” he demands. I hold my hands up in a seemingly non-threatening way and before either them can react I call my staff to me and knock the gun to the floor.

“Okay, how about we all just calm down a little, okay?” they’re staring at me with wide eyes and Sam actually starts chanting at me, something that sounds like a very butchered exorcism. I mutter the words for quiet and his voice fades to nothing.

“I invite you into my home and you try to shoot me and exorcise me? That’s kind of rude guys – plus if you book it now –“ Dean is edging towards the door. “if you leave – I can’t help you make your cop troubles disappear.” The both stop.

“We’re listening,” Dean replies glaring at me suspiciously. I motion them back to the chair they had been sharing earlier. “I think, if you know how to do an exorcism, you can probably banish the demon right?” Their faces tell me all I need to know and I think I have a pretty decent plan, I just hate being bait.

**

I’m feeling pretty stupid right now, standing in the middle of a construction site yelling at the top of my lungs.

“Okay, come on out lady, I know you’re watching and I think we need to talk.” I’ve been at this for ten minutes now.

"Dresden," a smooth female voice purrs, I spin around. She’s back, standing a small distance behind me. Long black hair, red lips, pale skin and a figure that women starve themselves for.

She smiles a pretty smile at me and takes a few steps forward.

"You haven't killed him yet." She cocks her head to the side. "Why?"

"Well, see, here's the thing, I’m not really a cold blooded murderer."

"I granted his wish, he got a year and I was supposed to get his soul. That was a deal, our contract and you have no right to mess with my business," she snaps angrily.

"I saw a guy at the end of his time and I helped him out. Besides, I didn't want your little hell hounds to tear him apart on the street in front of innocent people."

"No one is innocent Harry. Accept it and move on. I own the boy’s soul." I smirk at her because, well let’s face facts, I've never run when I should have.

"Well, seems to me that I pulled his marker, so I guess that means you're out of luck." She's glaring at me angrily but not advancing which is confusing until I realize it's probably my mother's bracelet.

"You aren't immune Dresden," she hisses at me. "I don't know why you think you are but there are forces here in this city alone that will pull you to pieces and all I have to do is ask them nicely."

"See, now I know you're lying," I tell her, she moves two steps closer, I move two steps back. "Because in this city even the bad guys know me. What did you really think the Vampires were going to help you out? Bianca and I have an agreement, a mutual pact of non-aggression." She glares, and the evil in her twists her face into horrifying grimace, pulling skin back, baring teeth, scary as all hell.

"You know nothing, Dresden." She lunges at me and I hastily step the final two steps back. Dean comes out of the shadows with his brother in two and smirks at her while she screams in impotent rage.

"Fool you once, shame on me. Fool you twice, well that just makes you stupid." Dean quips. Sam and I both roll our eyes. The Devil's Gate, scrawled on the ceiling in white chalk stands out now that we're firmly in the light. Little Miss Demon is well and truly stuck.

"You think this will go easy for you?" She demands, her voice is cold and hard, she's talking to the brothers. "I guarantee you're going to regret ever being born."

"That suits us just fine Sweetheart," Dean smiles charmingly at her. I should take lessons, maybe that smile would work on Murphy. "See, while you and all your little evil buddies down there are figuring out who's top dog now that old yellow eyes is dust we'll be working on our defenses and there won't be a single place you can go that will be safe for you and your kind."

Sam pulls out the book, a leather-bound journal that I haven't seen him put down since I met up with the Winchesters, and starts chanting in Latin. It sounds like he's trying to cast her out, but it sounds different from any of the other times I've ever heard an exorcism. It's all over in a cloud of dust and smoke and screaming and in typical Murphy fashion I can hear the sirens wailing close by. Dean grins at me and pulls me into a hug.

"Thanks man, you've been great. If we're ever back in Chicago, I promise to not look you up."

"I'd be really grateful, take care of yourselves." Sam reaches out to me just as Dean clocks me over the head with the shotgun.

**

In my life, I've been handed some heavy blows, most of them to my head. I worry sometimes that it's going to cause permanent damage but hey, it's all good because I get to lie here in the hospital bed, the FBI is footing the bill for and Murphy's got her head pillowed on the end of the bed. She's sound asleep and snoring a little bit. It's kind of cute but I know better than to tell her that.


End file.
